Infamous: Second Son: Winter Forever
by Steve'sStories
Summary: The serialized post Infamous: Second Son story of Delsin and Fetch
1. Monopolize

**Monopolize**

**Post 'Break Down the Walls'**

"You've gotta be kidding me." Delsin ran a hand through his hair, his beanie having been stolen by Fetch only a few moments before. The television was on, the news airing a story about one of the newly escaped— er, freed— Conduits from Curdun Cay. The newsman chattered on like a broken record, the words scraping against his ears. They'd been out three days, three damned days, and already, a report about a murder spree. Delsin felt certain he was about to have an aneurysm.

"Were they even listening to us?" Fetch shook her head, pink hair vibrant under Delsin's red beanie. She was referring to the speech they had given to the Conduits prior to liberation, the story of Seattle, what Augustine had wanted, the exhortation to be the very best they could. Welp.

Delsin stood. "Why? How hard can it be to not kill people? And if those people were drug dealers, or thieves or murderers than how hard can it be to include that in the report? The military is already out for blood, General Mortimer or no General Mortimer. This is the last shit we need!" He sat, dust pluming up from the criminally-underused sofa in his motel room. "It's just more work. When will it end?!" he asked Fetch.

"Do you even want it to, D?" she made a face like she knew the answer.

"For like, five minutes, yeah, Laser-show." he grinned. "At least long enough to take you out on a proper date."

"I like taking down dealers, ya know. It's half my charm." She winked, swatting his arm and he laughed.

He sighed. "Still, are we going to have to chase the ones who cause trouble down ourselves? And if we do, are we any better than the DUPs?"

"I dunno, Smokes. But I know we can't let the Army get to them."

"Yeah. You're right, you're right, you're right. God, I hope this isn't what Augustine felt like." Grabbing the remote, he turned the television off and Fetch leaned her head on his shoulder. He smiled, finding her light weight comforting. It didn't hurt that she smelled pretty.

Delsin looked over toward where they had pushed the motel beds together from his spot on the couch, blue blanket covering both of the mattresses. It worked for the moment, but he needed to find an apartment. One with a real bed that they could share. The only problem being his recent discovery that being a Conduit doesn't have to pay. No wonder so many robbed banks. He had begun to consider accepting the occasional offer for a speaking engagement. It seemed like selling out, but it paid and there weren't enough dealers left in the city to make a real living off of going all Robin Hood on them.

"We're going to have to go after the Army, too, than." he said.

"Yeah. They ain't gonna fight like the DUPs, are they?" she asked.

"No. Shoot to kill and all that. Tanks maybe. No Conduit powers, though. Should be tons of fun." he nodded as he spoke.

"Should I call Teen-Angel, see if he's down?" she started to reach for her phone on the little table beside the sofa.

"Nah. It can wait. I'm taking you out tonight. We just gotta find a dealer, first." He grabbed her hand and stood.

"You know just how to flatter a girl, don't ya?" Fetch looked up at him and smiled. He was right, work wasn't so important yet.

**Author's Note: If you're coming from my previous story, I:SS: Break Down the Walls, than great! If not, you might want to read it, as many stories here will mention events from it! Either way, welcome! I don't have any set timetable for updates, and not every story posted here will necessarily be concluded in the next update. One-shots and multi-chaps will both have places here- think of this as a general story collection. I hope you enjoy it, please review, and thanks for reading!**


	2. Adding Up To Less (Isn't More)

**Warning: This contains spoilers for all of Paper Trail!**

**Adding Up To Less (Isn't More)**

**Post Credits/ Paper Trail/ Monopolize**

"Fetch, you remember that Celia girl, from Curdun Cay?" He looked over at the pink-haired Conduit, his jaw set in a way she hadn't seen since she'd come up on him on his way to Augustine.

"The one who killed herself, ya mean?" Fetch frowned. "She was nice."

Delsin shook his head. "She didn't and she wasn't."

"What?" she asked.

"She killed some other guard, mutilated her and took her place. She wanted to make the people think that we were monsters- you and Eugene especially. She was a tool of Augustine." He spat, and glanced up at the big glowing Olaf's sign. He'd come to help Fetch take her stuff to his motel room— there was no way he was letting her live on rooftops— but he had had to tell her about the obsessive Conduit who now presented a danger to the good fortune they had worked so hard to earn.

"This has gotta be a joke, D." Running a hand through her hair, she looked away and sighed. "How do you know?"

"She's led me on a wild goose chase across all of Seattle for the last few days. Having to find clues and hack the DUPs and all kinds of shit." he chuckled. "At the end, she showed me all these people she'd killed. They all hated us. But she killed them. And she says that I taught her that. That I made her that way. That Curdun Cay wasn't needed because we could just take our freedom." Delsin put his face in his hands and rubbed his temples.

Fetch put her arm around him and pulled him close. "Talk about a misinterpretation, huh, Smokes?"

"Seriously, Laser-show. She's around here somewhere, though. I already told Eugene to keep an eye out. Dude's got angels everywhere." Picking up a box, he leapt down from the roof and put it into the bed of the truck he'd rented. It was red, and a bit rusty, and sat lower to the ground than he thought it should. But it was cheap and it was a truck. It would work.

"What makes you think she's still around?" Fetch jumped down with another, the third and last, box.

"She thinks of me as some kind of psychopathic messiah. That makes Seattle a serial-killer Jerusalem." he said, as he lifted the boxes into the bed of the truck. He had considered just carrying the boxes, but decided that there was too much of a chance of dropping it at high speed.

"Yeah, and everybody who means anything in this is flocking here too. The DUPs, the military, us." she grinned at the last bit. Delsin returned the smile and climbed into the driver's seat.

"She'll be joining up with that other killer, too, the one on the news yesterday." she slid into the passenger side, sipping an iced coffee from the cup-holder.

Delsin started the truck, the rumble low, with an occasional putter, and looked out the window at the sky. The sun was setting and the sky was streaked with purple and pink. The little bit of wind there was tried to ruffle his hair, but his beanie put an end to any of that business.

"They'll slip up soon. We'll have them then." he said.

"Think positive, D." she gently shoved his shoulder.

He nodded, grinned, and started the drive back to the motel, certain that he'd win this war of his before long, at least, as long as Fetch kept help putting things into perspective.


	3. The Driver's Fingers

**The Driver's Fingers**

**Post 'Adding Up To Less (Isn't More)'**

Delsin leaned over the railing looking out over the conference. Delegates from the Conduits Rights League were there to meet with newsmen and lawmakers about a push for codifying the rights of Conduits in the Constitution of the State of Washington. It was just his luck that he'd been asked to pull guard duty and help provide over-watch, along with Eugene, who stood next to him, Fetch, who was in a tower across the street, and members of the Seattle police department.

The delegates sat at a circular white table, the kind you might see at a school's PTA meeting, beneath banners showing the face of Reggie, now a martyr for the cause of Conduit freedom. Delsin wasn't sure how to feel about that. At the head of the table, beside State Senator David Foster sat Stacy Pine, the head of the League. He sighed. The area was outside, but included an observation deck. It was set back maybe twenty yards from the road and trees and flowers grew everywhere about the place. A rabbit hopped among them. At least the place smelled pretty.

"Boring is good, Delsin. Boring means this is going well." Eugene patted him on the back.

"Boring is boring, Eugene." Standing up, he put his hands in his pockets. "I mean, I want this to go well, I just wish I didn't have to stand up here and wait for it to not go well, ya know?"

"Nothing's going to come from this anyway, man. They pass anything, and they could have problems with the feds. It's just a gesture." One of Eugene's angels came flying down to whisper in his ear. "Still no suspicious activity in the area."

"Damn," he said. "How are things with Clara?"

"Good, man, thanks for asking. She wants to know if you and Fetch want to catch a movie with us the weekend, by the way." Eugene laughed.

"She's gonna bring that up to Fetch, isn't she?" he groaned. It wasn't that he disliked any of them, just that he found double-dates, or real non-drug-dealer-subduing ones, to be, well, painful.

"Probably, yeah," he said.

"I should clear my Saturday, shouldn't I?" Delsin blinked slowly.

"I'd say so," he nodded.

"It won't be the Phoenix Jones movie, will it?" he steeled himself for the answer.

"I'd say not," he shook his head.

"You're killing me, Teen-Angel." Running a hand through his hair, he turned to look out towards the road.

"I thought that was the boredom." Eugene said.

"It's both of you."

"Well, it doesn't have to be. It looks like they're getting up," he pointed down to the table where the delegates were standing and shaking hands and beginning to file out towards the street, where shiny black cars, chauffeurs by their open doors, waited.

Delsin watched as Stacy Pine and her League retinue ducked to climb into her vehicle. He continued watching, horrified, as it exploded. As he leapt over the edge, he cursed himself for hating being so bored.

**Author's Note: I know that this one isn't so Delsin/Fetch, or at all, really, but I had this idea for a one-shot and so here it is. As always, I hope you liked it, and please read and review!**


	4. Sabotage

**Sabotage**

**Post 'The Driver's Fingers'**

The government was trying to control the damage to the anti-Conduit cause done by the assassination of Stacy Pine. Everyone loves a tragedy, and this one had caused seven deaths and over two dozen injuries.

Delsin watched as newsmen tried to reason the people into believing it had been caused by Conduits, and he watched as others tried to fan the flames into a ratings boost. Both those things made him want to vomit more than the bombing itself.

Fetch walked into their new apartment, bag of groceries in her arms. "Anything good today, D?"

"Same as every day," he sighed.

"Nothing new from the DUP Captain you captured, then?" she asked, putting the groceries on the kitchen counter.

"Nope. They're just as in the dark as we are," Delsin stood and polished off his beer. "Even Eugene's angels aren't sure where Celia is. She's around here somewhere— but it's like playing hide and seek with someone who can turn into paper!"

"Hate to break it to you, Smokes, but that's what we're doing," she laughed, stuffing a bottle of milk and head of lettuce into the old refrigerator.

"I know, back when I was chasing her she let herself be found. Maybe I can convince her to do it again or something." Reaching for his beanie, on the arm of the chair he'd been sitting in, he put it on his head. "Wait. I've got it. I have to draw her out!" he grinned.

"And just how're you gonna do that?" Fetch put her hands on her hips.

"We've gotta make it seem like we're planning something big, ya know? Like, watch areas for days, set, like, monitoring equipment up, be real jumpy. If she thinks we've got an idea to seize our freedom as Conduits, she may want in." Delsin chuckled. "I'll call Eugene, we're gonna need his help."

Fetch leaned back against the counter as Delsin walked into the bedroom, cell phone to his ear. She liked their little apartment. Only three rooms, four if you count the bathroom, but it was functional and it was theirs. She hadn't had anywhere stable to actually live since she and Brent had run away, with the exception of Curdun Cay, but Curdun Cay was a jail. Not exactly a home.

They didn't have much furniture. A couch, a chair, a television, a table and a few (mismatched) folding chairs for it, but she couldn't help but love it. It beat the hell out of a billboard and a sleeping bag.

The thought of going after Celia also worried her. She knew they could hold their own or better in a straight fight against her, but the paper Conduit had already proven that there would be no such thing as a straight fight against her. Car-bombs, assassinations, and copy-cat killings were all part of her repertoire. She was a whole different kind of dangerous. At least Eugene could help to keep them cautious, Fetch thought.

Delsin walked back in. "Eugene's going to help. He wants us to meet him in his lair tomorrow so we can talk strategy, sound good, Laser-show?"

"Yeah, that works, D," she smiled at him and hoped that their luck would hold out.

**Author's Note: I'm sorry this one took so long! I was having trouble coming up with an idea for a story, but I've got a few as of right now! I hope to update at least once a week from here out, but my time's now being split between two stories, so I won't promise anything! Thanks for reading as always!**


	5. You Shouldn't Have (Really)

**You Shouldn't Have (Really)**

**Pre Infamous: Second Son**

Reggie walked into the apartment he and his brother shared and was immediately assaulted by the smell of cheap whiskey. Shaking his head, he tossed his keys onto the counter to his left and stepped down into the living room. The riffs of his brother's angst-filled music pulsed through the walls. _Constant Headache_, he'd probably heard Delsin play that song a hundred times in the last three days. The TV was on, flashing explosions in some far off jungle dominating the screen. He turned it off.

Knocking on Delsin's door, he waited. No response, so he opened it. His brother lay splayed out on his bed, covers kicked away, pouring the contents of a little-more-than-half-empty bottle into his mouth. Reggie stepped toward him and Delsin sprung away with surprising speed, cradling the whiskey in his arms in an attempt to keep it.

"You're too young to be drinking, Delsin," he said, folding his arms over his chest.

"I'm too young to get my heart broken, you mean," his brother slurred back, frowning.

Reggie sighed. "You're being melodramatic."

Delsin raised the drink to his lips again, eyes warily resting on his older brother. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Three years, we'd been together, and she just throws it away. Just throws it away, man. Didn't even tell me why."

Sitting in a chair against the wall, Reggie rested his elbows on his knees. "You can't help the way someone feels, Delsin. What she feels for you has nothing to do with her."

"What do you mean?"

"You can't just not love her, right?" he asked, his mouth twisted, eyebrows furrowed in a thoughtful expression.

"No. I can't," Delsin said, dropping the now empty bottle to the floor with a clunk.

"Well, then she can't help it if she doesn't love you. You still have to be strong, bro. Hiding away behind a haze of cigarette smoke and bad liquor isn't helping anyone," he ran a hand through his hair.

"How did you know about the cigarettes?" he had the decency to appear sheepish.

"I can smell them."

"Over the liquor?"

"What do you think?"

"That's fair."

"You're trying to change the subject."

"Is it working?"

"Just promise me you'll stop this. That tomorrow you'll get up and go to class like everything's normal, all right?" Reggie tried to make eye contact, but his brother looked away.

"Fine. I promise. I'm so done with relationships though. It just isn't worth it," he tried to slam his fist down onto the bed, but the result was half-hearted and unimpressive.

"You say that now," he stood.

"Yeah? And where's your girl, huh, Mr. Police-Man?" Delsin taunted.

"I don't have one. Now sleep it off. You're annoying when you've been drinking," his older brother grinned, and exited.

He sat and scowled for a moment. Then his eyes shot open wide. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me…" he blurted, before vomiting brown liquid all over himself. "Fuck it. I'll take care of it later," he said, as he threw his denim vest and remaining clothing onto the floor and flopped into his bed. "Sleep it off," he muttered as he passed out.

**Author's Note: The first I've written to take place before the game, I'd say this one occurs sometime in 2012. I'm still pissed that I can't label Eugene as a character, by the way. I've just about run out of things to say. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and please review!**


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